Sophisticated Shenanigans
by readwithcats
Summary: She was on the village council. She was also in love with Shimura Danzo who just so happened to be the Hokage. The two may or may not have been correlated. And to think it had all started with locally grown carrots.
1. Auspicious meetings

**This idea wasn't leaving me and so I was like why not? Also I realize this chapter is pretty uneventful, but it is necessary. Basically if you're intrigued by the summary, wait till at least chapter two to decide whether you like it or not. But that's your choice, regardless, hope you enjoy!**

Summary: She was on the village council. She was also in love with Shimura Danzo who just so happened to be the Hokage. The two may or may not have been correlated. (And to think it had all started with locally grown carrots.)

 _Sophisticated Shenanigans_

 _._

 _Chapter 1_

 _Auspicious meetings_

 _._

I was born mid-October under a clear blue sky, and my mother, having just given birth, was exhausted down to the very marrow of bones. My father wanted to let her rest, but the nurse wanted to know the name of the child. Sora was what my mother came up with.

Clever, right?

Sky. My name meant _sky_.

Now, a detail to be noted, months before my birth, my parents struck a deal. If I was a girl, then my mom would name me, but if I was a boy, then vice versa. And—I had heard this several times at the dinner table said jokingly—my mother had thought she would lose, so she didn't think of a name ahead of time. In her defense, she claimed that her grandmother had told her on her deathbed that her firstborn would be a healthy boy.

So, tired and dead on her feet, my mother looked at the sky and declared it my name.

I personally believe that this carved out my care-free attitude.

(Of course, many would protest and say that even proved their point.)

.

"Are you ready to go the park, Sora?" My father asked, putting on his coat. "Remember it's cold outside, so put on a jacket."

Pausing and then retreating back to my closet with a hum, I searched for a jacket that wouldn't clash with my lavender shirt and blue jeans. Pink? No. Yellow? Maybe, but it was an ugly color. Though I did love pineapples, maybe I could father for some?

I shook my head, I had to focus.

Oh! I had my jean jacket!

I rushed to find it, but as I ran, my ankle wobbled and my socks slide across the smooth wooden floors of my home. My arms shot out to catch myself even as I braced for the pain. Eyes squeezed shut, I hit the ground with the palms of my hands carrying most of my weight.

For a second, everything felt numb and hollow, my breath had escaped and didn't seem to be coming back. Fear creeped and crawled over my heart as it skipped a beat. Was I going to die?

It seemed far too soon, and, in that moment of idiocrasy, my life long goal was made.

I was to live for as long as I could.

Then air came back with a thrill of relief, and big, fat tears came streaming down my face as I cried for my father. My wrists hurt now that the pain had replaced the numbness, and I didn't have a high tolerance for pain.

"Sora?" My father's voice carried itself to my room, "what happened?"

As much as wanted to answer, I was only able cry harder. The shock had fled away, but the fear had stayed to keep me company. My breath came out staggered as my chest shook with sobs and I instinctively curled into a ball, hugging my poor hands.

I could hear steps slowly gaining in volume and—assuming it was my father—I attempted to wipe away the tears, suddenly feeling ashamed of myself. I was four! Father must be so disappointed to have a crybaby.

But against my wishes, my sobbing increased in intensity and sound as I was overcome with embarrassment and hatred for myself.

Somehow, in all but a minute or less, I had managed a juxtaposition of my own emotions. Which in turn brought—yup, you guessed it—more stupid tears.

Big arms lifted me up, far above the wooden floors, and I was quickly placed on their warm chest. I didn't waste time to clutch the shirt—blurred through the veil of tears—even as I blinked rapidly to stop the tears.

"Fa—father," I buried my head in his shirt, trying hard to hide my tears. You know what they say, if you can't see them, then they can't see you. "I'm sor—sorry."

He cradled me, gently rocking his arms back and forth, and my eyes slowly stopped leaking—only to grow unbearably dry. The back of my head started pounding as well and before I knew it, I was being lulled to sleep.

I didn't fight it.

("Guess we can forget the park, huh, Sora," my father joked.)

.

When I am five, my goal is tweaked the slightest bit. My parents are out and about so they send me to my grandma. Little do they realize how much they will regret it for the days to come. I want to live like my grandma, because she's the absolute best.

"Child! Stay still!"

See, my grandma has a cane made of the trees Senju Hashirama—says he gave it to her, looking right into her eyes. I think she fell in love with him, I could be wrong though. Grandpa is still there along with her.—and it's her favorite possession. You won't ever see her without it. But that's not what's important, no, what's important is her favorite hobby.

Hitting people with it—did I say people? I meant me—and watching with satisfaction as they grow fearful.

She's a sadistic grandma. I love her for it.

Laughing, I stretch out my arms and flap them pretending to be an elegant butterfly. Despite feeling rather elegant and graceful, I'm pretty sure I look the opposite. "Look, grandma!"

"What did I say!?" She yells with her raspy voice that used to send me chills. "Stay _still_!"

"Whoops, sorry," I'm grinning from ear to ear now. "Guess what I am!"

With all the excitement I can muster, I zoom past her with the colors blurring together at the edge of my vision and flutter my arms faster, eager to see what she would guess. As I make another turn—I had to stay within her eye-site—I spotted a purple flower, I quickly make my way towards it while trying to remain subtle.

"C'mon, just guess!" I egg her on and did a fancy spin with my skirt floating upwards. "Grandmaaaaa."

She waved her cane in the air, "just wait till I catch up with you, brat." Despite her words, there was no venom in them.

Still—I stuck my tongue out at her. Petty revenge was fun.

"If I guess, will you stop running in circles?" she negotiated.

I slowed for a moment before shrugging and picking up speed once more, "sure! Now guess!"

"A bird." She snapped out critically. "'bout time you realize you have the brain of a bird."

I stopped and clenched my fists. "I'm not dumb! I don't ha—have the brain of a bi—bird."

"Yes, yes." She said flippantly. "Now get over here."

My face flushed angrily, but I forced my fists to relax and tried to regain my wits. "Oh! Look, a red bird! It's behind you Grandma! Look!"

Much to my delight, she slowly craned her neck the other way and I ran a couple more feet to reach the flower. I grabbed it with my still chubby hands and tugged at the green stem. It gave way and I fell on my butt much to my displeasure. Scrambling, I pushed myself off the ground and hid the flower behind my back.

When her head was back to facing me, I was already running towards her with a triumphant smile. Her stern look softened and her eyes almost looked warm before they hardened once more. "I didn't see any bird, child."

"Oh." I plastered a look of surprise. She narrowed her beady eyes at me like a hawk and a giggle slipped out of me. "Whoops."

Her cane struck like lightning and hurt just as much.

"Lying is bad." She said flatly as I rubbed my arm, which I had managed to bring up in time to block the hit.

"Yes, yes." I repeated what she had said earlier and this time a dodged her precious cane. "Anyways—I got you something!"

"Is that right?" She said, looking mildly curious. "Well, show me child."

I brought out my other arm that I had kept hidden and thrust the flower in her face. Or at least, I attempted to. Being small had its disadvantages. My smile became a grin as she reached out to take it. She was sure to like it!

"Child." She deadpanned. "Do you know what this is?"

"Nope!"

"It's poison."

"…"

(Later, I would find out that she had been her town's apothecary before even hidden villages had existed. She promised to pass on some of her knowledge—even if the Yamanaka had already taken over her job.)

(I loved my grandma—every _single_ piece of her—and I wanted to be like her.)

.

Later that month, on a hot summer night, my family held a dinner. It happened to be a family dinner, why even Grandma and Grandpa showed up. They never show up.

"Grandma, why are you here?" I decided to be blunt. Maybe she would be nice today.

She looked down at me and sighed before patting head with her rings clanking together. She doesn't reply though.

Mother and Father were discussing something in low voices—which means I'm not to interrupt them. Grandpa was the only other option I had. I walked over to him and poked his leg in a way to get his attention.

"Ah, yes. Sora?" He asked, his filmy blue eyes never clearing up. I swallowed nervously, I didn't usually talk to him without anyone else.

"Um," I stumbled over my words. "Can you tell me why you and Grandma are here?"

Grandpa brings a wrinkly hand to his ear, "could you repeat that for me?"

I licked my lips, debating how loud I need to speak, but before I figure it out, Mother claps her hands together and both of us flinch.

"Why don't you tell me later, Sora?" He suggested and was led to the table by Grandma, who shot me a look. I was left even more confused than I had been.

Still, I obediently went to sit at the table with a frown on my face. Mother had made steamed pork buns and she passed the plate around. We each got one—to get more would be considered impolite, at least until we were all done with ours.

I stared at mine like it would give me the answers I sought before taking a bite out of it. I hummed in appreciation as flavor filled my mouth, it was good.

"You're quiet today, Sora." Mother observed and I tilted my head. Did I normally talk that much? I didn't think so, but I could be biased.

I finished chewing and gulped it down with a sip of water. "I guess… I'm just curious why Grandma and Grandpa are here—not that I don't like them." I hastily added.

"Well, today is a big day for you." Father started.

"It is?"

Mother smiled, "yes. In my family, once we turn five, we decide what we want to be when we grow up. We're a little late. You're almost six, but since we now live in Konohagakure, you have more time to decide."

"I want to be Grandma when I grow up!" I proudly exclaimed before finishing it off with a grin.

Mother sighed. Father chuckled. I frowned.

"I do!" I pouted.

"So you want to become an expert with plants?" Mother pushed, her eyes thoughtful. "That's a good decision, Sora. I'm pro—"

Frustrated, I banged my fist against table. Did they not understand? "No! I want to _be_ Grandma!"

"You can't be me, brat," Grandma stated plainly.

I smile faded while my heart sank. "Why not?"

"Because you're you for a reason." She explained. "And your name isn't Sayu as far as I'm concerned. Now listen carefully child."

Unsatisfied, anger ran rampant, but I forced myself to quiet down. Grandma had instructed me to listen, so listen I would. "Fine."

"Good."

Father picked up from where Mother had left off, "Sora, you know about shinobi and the Hokage, right?"

I nodded, this was basic information.

"Well, children who want to become shinobi have to apply at the newly built academy at the age of six, and it starts in April. Are you interested in becoming a shinobi, Sora? Because if you are, we need to start the paper work now."

"However," Mother put her hand on top of Father's and squeezed it, "there are other choices. You can become like your Father, a merchant. I'm a medic who helps the other civilians when medic-nins are too busy."

"Oh." I pondered over the new information I was given. Everything sounded like so much _fun_. But then I remembered that shinobi fought for their lives, and quickly crossed that off my list. I couldn't live old like Grandma—I hadn't given up quite yet—if I died on the battlefield. I wasn't even from a clan. Being a medic didn't seem to have any cons, I mean, I would be saving people and that sounded awesome. A merchant seemed boring, if you asked me. "And I have to tell you my choice today?"

I really didn't want to be a shinobi. They could die at a moment's notice, but they brought honor and fame to your family, if you did well. The Yuhi hadn't been anybody important until Yuhi Akihito won against a Hatake—I only knew this because that was all the merchants would gossip about when it happened. Maybe my parents expected me to become one for that reason.

I didn't know.

"Y—yes," Mother hesitated, "but if you need an extra day, it's alright. You are deciding your future."

"Okay, well, I don't know for sure, and if you want me to be one, I can be. I just don't want to be a shinobi?" I lifted my eyes from my plate which still had my unfinished steamed bun and gazed at them for approval—anything really.

I wasn't disappointed, surprisingly, Mother was fighting a relieved smile from breaking out while Father wasn't even trying. I couldn't read Grandma and, well, I wasn't even sure if Grandpa had even heard me.

"I'm glad to hear that, Sora." Father ruffled my hair affectionately. "I love you too much to see you get set off for war."

Tilting my head, I asked, "war?"

"Yes, though that isn't anything you need to concern yourself with." He dismissed. "Your mother and I will work on getting you in one of the best civilian schools."

"Speaking of, Shigeru, there's been word of a new one opening up just in time for the next school year." Grandma piped up.

He nodded in acknowledgement before turning back to me, "Is there anything that interests you?"

"Um, a medic seems pretty cool… They can save lives, right?"

Smiling, Mother replied, "yes."

"Well, I want to save people!" I declared.

And thus, my goal changed once more and became a bit broader under the blinking stars and dark night.

.

My parents kept their promise. At the beginning of spring, I attended my first day of school.

It was nerve-wracking, if I do say so myself. Father was gone on a trip outside of the village, so Mother was the one who dropped me off before heading to the hospital to go save some people. She gave me a quick kiss on the forehead and flashed an apologetic smile—then left.

The school was new and stank of fresh paint; in fact, my head started hurting not even five minutes inside the building. Being too busy trying to relieve my head of the pain, I missed the right turn and I quickly found myself lost.

I was going to be late too if I didn't find my way soon. I started jogging slightly, clutching at my new dress to make sure it never went past my thighs. After a couple more turns down hallways, I came across a girl who appeared to be around my age. I wondered if she knew where to go.

She had thin, gray hair that almost seemed lavender tucked into a fancy bun with a red and blue pin holding it in place. Her dress was similar to mine—it had the same design on the side—but was in a different color. Mine was violet; hers was blue.

I approached her trying not to seem completely lost. I patted down my dress and walked as graceful as I could. "Excuse me, but are you in class 23-B?"

She startled, jumping up in the air, before regaining her composure. "Yes, I am, but it seems as though I have lost my way."

"That's funny," I smiled sheepishly. "I did too and I can't seem to find my way back."

"Would you like to try to find it together?" She shyly held out her hand, and I happily took it. Luck was with me.

"My name is Hane Sora." I introduced myself. "What's yours?"

She dipped her head politely, "Utatane Koharu."

And just like that, hand in hand, we attempted to find our classroom. After much searching, we came across it. We were both late and had missed the entrance ceremony, but the sensei excused us on the account of it being the first day. Though he did say if we were late again, it would be marked against us.

After introducing ourselves to the class—gosh, that had been terrible, nerves were not good for me—we took a seat at the front of the class. They were the only available seats left as everybody else had already taken the better seats. I was disappointed but refrained from showing it. I wanted to make a good impression on Utatane.

The first day mostly consisted of teachers going over the rules and how they expected us to follow them—boring, right? But I was forced to endure lecture after lecture after lecture. I was thoroughly amazed at Utatane's ability to stay perfectly focused throughout all of it. I had already dozed off twice and doodled all over the notebook I brought while pretending to be taking notes.

Finally, recess came about and I quickly joined Utatane before wondering if I was coming off as too clingy. We had only met that morning. Maybe it was presumptuous of me to assume we were friends now. I couldn't tell.

"Would it be okay if I sat with you, Utatane?" I asked hesitantly, almost fearful of the answer.

She shook her head, "yes, I'd be grateful for the company."

I sank down beside her as I broke into a grin. "Great!"

We both ate our lunch in silence and when we finished, I scrambled my brain to find something to talk about, only to fall short. I didn't know anything about her.

"What is your favorite color?" Utatane questioned and I was glad to know I wasn't the only person who didn't know what they were doing.

"Purple," I answered quickly. "What about yours?"

"…Green, though it doesn't look good on me."

"Oh, yellow doesn't suit me, but I don't like it." I tried to sympathize, but I had a feeling I had failed.

She giggled, "I don't like yellow either to be honest."

"Right? It's so ugly!"

"It's not ugly… it's just not pretty."

I rolled my eyes. "So, ugly."

"Whatever you say," she sighed.

"That's right, I am Hokage and I can create wooden houses just by thinking it. You better watch out!" I leapt up and tried to act intimidating her with my arms raised above me.

She mock gasped and pleaded, "mercy, oh, have mercy on this poor soul! Have merc—haha!"

I had started to laugh when she played along with my theatrics and you know what they say, laughter's contagious. We were both rolling on the grass in the shade of the tree laughing our hearts out.

Life was good with a friend.

(Spring was leaving, but the flowers had truly yet bloomed for that could only happen in summer.)

.

Time passed and before I knew it, I was seven and autumn was already in full swing as the leaves decorated the sky in colors beyond the imagination.

My birthdays had never been big; no, they had always been small and a family affair. Somehow, the seventh one had managed to transcend the limits. I had a couple friends—I _was_ amiable and full of charisma, what _wasn't_ there to like?—but none were as close as Utatane. I wouldn't say we were the bestest of friends, or even best friends really, but we had our moments.

There was just _something_ so simple yet complex about our friendship. Neither of us went to each to whisper secrets of who liked who in the class, nor did we truly gossip. We weren't there for the petty words and judgement—we had that with their own friends within their respective friend groups, which for some odd reason had never quite overlapped. We were there for the fun, I guess. For the giggles that would develop to bubbling laugher.

For the lack of judgement.

It was relieving and peaceful for the both of us.

Though Utatane didn't mention it often, her family was pressuring her to do well in class and it was no secret that she had noble lineage. She had once let it slip that her parents were attempting to arrange a marriage for her. So to have even just a second to forget those fears of failure meant the world to her.

And I understood. I might not know of the gritty details—but I didn't need to. I only had to be there with smile and a hand outstretched—I would let her know how much her hand had meant that day—and I knew without a doubt that Utatane would hold it just as tightly as she had the first time we had met.

As for what I gained from this bewildering friendship, well, it was simple. I had a friend—a proper one. Not one to indulge in the childish habit of bullying, I generally steered away from situations with guilt boiling in my body. I had almost stepped in once but had given in of the fear of being picked on instead of the poor boy.

That day I had rushed over to Utatane and had ranted till I ran short of breath. Guilt had been overtaken with anger and anger, indignation. My friend had accepted it all with sympathetic eyes and declared that one day we would right the world. No more bullying would be allowed under our rule. I had been particularly grateful as I had instantly snapped back that there was no 'us', only I would rule the world, and thus another tirade started and soon we forgot about the declarations made that afternoon.

We were friends and yet when I introduced Utatane to my family I had hesitated to use the word.

It hadn't seemed like enough.

A week before her birthday, my parents asked something bizarre.

"Would you like to invite Utatane home for your birthday?"

It left me wondering if I wanted to, and at what point did we cross that fine line that declared us friends but not best friends? My mood turned sullen and it did not go unnoticed unfortunately. Utatane shot glances at me all throughout class and several of my other friends asked if something was wrong. I replied that everything was fine, and technically, it wasn't a lie.

But it also wasn't the truth.

"Do you intend to keep hiding whatever has you in such a horrid mood from me much long?" Utatane narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, obviously frustrated.

Lunch had started, and she hadn't wasted anytime to march over to her that afternoon. I felt slightly guilty and offered a small smile.

"No?" I sighed, "Would you want to come over for my birthday? Mother is making a cake and Grandma said that she would be doing something special. But it's fine if you can't!"

"When you say it like _that_ , you make it seem like you don't want me to come over."

Flustered, I waved her arms. "No! I d—do, I do!"

"Then you think I wouldn't want to? Is that what _this_ is all about?" Utatane lifted her arms as her tone turned accusatory.

"Sort of? I don't know?" I quailed slightly under the glare I received. "I mean, we're friends, duh, but like we don't act like friends. Yuko and Suki are practically joined at the hip, always laughing and sharing inside jokes and—and we don't do that. We just sort of… relax? Chill? I don't know? _Please don't hurt me_."

"I could _never_ hurt you Sora," que sly smile with cruel eyes. "You know we don't have to act like Yuko and Suki, or like Maku and Futo, right? We can be friends without acting like them. We can be best friends even." This time her smile was genuine and my heart lifted.

"Oh," I blinked. "That makes sense."

It was simple too. Made me feel slightly dumb though. Oh well, I could get over it.

And so with everything set right once more, I grinned. "Want to be best friends, Utatane?"

"Took you long enough." She rolled her eyes but the corners of her mouth revealed her true thoughts as they curved upwards. "Call me Koharu."

"Okay then, Koharu," my grin somehow became bigger, "call me Sora!"

Maybe we didn't act like everyone else, maybe we didn't call some things fun, and maybe we didn't share every secret, but no one could take away what we had now. We were best friends after all.

Thus, my birthday was celebrated with everyone. The cake was the very definition of perfection and Grandma had given me her journal, which held notes of the different plants. Grandma promised to help her once school was out over the spring. I was overjoyed. As for Koharu, well, she gave me a necklace that had my initials carved into it.

When I had Koharu put it on because _of_ _course I couldn't wait_ , I swore to myself to always have it on my body.

(Life might've been good with a friend, but it was even better with a best friend.)

.

 **Side note: be aware that this isn't going to end as soon as they fall in love. In fact, I hesitated to be the Romance genre, because it's going to be more about how many subtle, or not so subtle, changes Sora makes to the show.**

 **Well, did you like it? Are you at least intrigued? Want me to continue? *cough* comment, please, I'm desperate *cough***

 **Thanks for reading!**


	2. Clichés with carrots

_Chapter 2_

 _Clichés with carrots_

.

"I don't want to." I whined. "Let me stay…"

A foot slammed down on the ground beneath me. "No. You will get up this instant, Sora."

"But I want to stay here and act like nothing matters anymore." I didn't lift my arms, which were currently covering my eyes from the rest of the world.

A groan—then silence.

I sighed peacefully. The sun was beaming down, but being so close to the ground, I found myself protected by the shade of the trees that the Shodaime himself had grown. The wind could be heard rustling the leaves as well as the occasional chirping from the birds flying around.

It was almost strange to think that not even twenty years ago war had still been present and corrupting people to continue the cycle of hatred. Especially on days like these when all was calm.

"Koharu?"

"Yeah, I'm here, you lazy excuse of a person."

"Maybe, but you have to admit it's nice."

A pause.

"Fine. It is rather pleasant."

"See?"

"Oh, don't rub it in Sora."

A smile.

"Sora?"

"Yup."

"It's _okay_ that you failed the science test, you know. Suki failed it too."

"Yeah, but Suki is Suki. And I'm Sora—I'm not supposed to fail a test. Any kind of test, really."

"Maybe, but have you ever put Madara as the next in line to be Hokage?"

A startled laugh. "No, I haven't. How did that even happen?"

"It happened during the first semester and one of our first tests given. I was nervous and I didn't even notice Tobirama on there. I saw Madara and thought, 'that makes sense, he's the best friend of the Shodaime. Why wouldn't he be next in line?' I was too embarrassed to tell you."

"Oh. Well, thank you for telling us that humbling story of yours."

"Quiet, you mere peasant."

"Pshh, how dare you? I am a woman of elegance and I demand respect that you have not shown me."

"Demand all you'd like, you shall get nothing."

"So you say, but you have not yet seen my true form…"

A quiet chuckle. "And what is it _now_?"

"Now? I'll have you know it has never once changed—for I am the almighty, the strong, the great Senju Hashirama and current Hokage!"

"Ah, truly, it is a shame my innocent eyes lay closed on this fateful day."

"…"

Laughter rang out. "I feel your glare from here, even with my eyes closed."

"Ugh. I no longer like you. Leave me Koharu, I no longer wish to see you."

"You say that but your eyes are closed as well, are they not?"

"…"

(War was approaching on the horizon, but if one's eyes are closed, then one can be ignorant for as long as one can.)

.

I was having a mini-lecture with Grandma on the different types of poisons when I heard the news.

In a cloud of dust, Koharu appeared with panic on her countenance and tears streaking down. Instantly, I leapt up from where I had been sitting and maneuvered myself out of the maze of herbs around the two. At the site of her friend, Koharu quickly attempted to salvage her pride but she crumbled and reached out for Sora, who without hesitation snuck in for a hug.

I patted Koharu and didn't stop whispering that all was going to be fine. It didn't matter if it was a lie; Koharu wanted to be comforted, so comforted she would be.

When she had gotten the waterworks—mostly—wrapped up, I slowly stepped away and regarded my best friend. "What happened?"

"My parents—" she took a shaky breath, "they want me to become a shinobi. But… I don't want to!"

"Did you tell them that?" Sora had a sneaking suspicion but she allowed herself to hope.

Koharu bitterly laughed and ended with a hiccup, "of course I did. They ignored me and told me it was already too—too late."

"What do you mean 'too late'?" Please, don't say it, _please_ , I pleaded. Dread curled in my stomach like spoiled milk but I would take spoiled milk any day over this.

As if sensing my unease, the girl straightened her back like she had been taught all her life and delivered the words she had come to say.

Koharu met my eyes dead on. "I am enrolled for the academy and will be transferred this winter."

(It was needless to say that from then on, the girls treasured each and every moment with each other; after all neither knew when they would see each other again.

.

Our friendship had started out lost and had progressed to being found, yet as I entered the classroom they had once skittishly came upon, I only felt hollow. Empty.

Void.

We would never eat lunch under the same old Senju tree, send glances to each other in the middle of a history lecture, and lay down in the shade with silence only filled by the wildlife that surrounded them.

Admittedly, I knew that she could always run across town and see Koharu, but—

It didn't soothe my heart like it should have.

It still ached and my eyes still shone from unshed tears and my throat still swallowed up my words to make a lump that seemed to have gotten stuck. It still _hurt_.

I quickly asked to go to the bathroom, received an acquiescing nod, and walked out on my two wobbling legs and the paranoia that everyone was watching me. Other children may not have known me personally, but they all knew of 'Sora's and Koharu's friendship'. Koharu was the prim and polite one, while I was the happy and exuberant one.

We were a pair.

Immediately closing the wooden door behind me, I let out a choked sob and rushed to the bathroom, not caring if anybody else happened to be there. I could care less if someone saw me balling, it would just be one more person to add to the ever growing list. Two turns later, I was pushing the handle open and heading for the first stall I laid eyes on.

Briefly, I registered that there was an upperclassmen re-applying a layer of makeup that had looked concerned at my state but I paid no mind. It wouldn't matter as along as the student didn't go to my teacher, which would've been impossible—the school was huge and the number of teachers were correspondent to that.

As I attempted to cry softly, a click-clack sound grew louder and soon a pair of black sandals appeared underneath her stall door. I hastily wiped away at my tears in case the student asked me to open the door and tore off a piece of the toilet paper to blow my stuffy nose.

"Hey, uh, kid." There was an awkward pause. "You… you alright?"

"Y—yes," came my warbled croak. I winced. "I'm fine."

I blew my stupid nose again and the sound echoed.

"Listen, uh, if someone's bullying you, tell your teacher." A sigh. "Or if you want you can tell mine, she's, uh, pretty great."

I frowned, why would she ask if I was being bullied? Oh.

I finally realized how I must've looked running to the nearest stall with snot dripping and tears falling. Terrible, I must've looked terrible. No wonder she didn't believe me.

"Oh, um. I'm really not getting bullied. Please don't worry about me." The student was concerned about me, instead of focusing on herself, and I felt touched as well as guilty. She shouldn't have to waste her time on dumb me crying. Grabbing another piece of toilet paper, I wiped at my wet cheeks and eyes wondering if my eyes were red. I knew they probably were as my head was starting to hurt behind them, which only happened after I cried.

What could I say, I was an ugly crier.

Somehow, that almost made me tear up again. I wanted to laugh at myself, but I knew me. As soon as I would start laughing, I'd start crying all over again. Trust me.

"If you don't want to tell anyone, that's fine but don't let yourself get walked all over. Then they won't stop." The upperclassmen pushed slightly.

"No, no." I unlocked the stall with a click. "It's just my best friend."

"Ahh, she's the one getting bullied and taking it out on you… I see." I sweat dropped.

"Um, no?" I opened the door, revealing my probably ugly face—not that it hadn't been before, "she was transferred to the academy."

The older girl stared at me before shrugging, "if you say so…"

"I _do_!" Why was she so stuck on bullying? It was getting on the frustrating side now.

"Alright. Well the name's Akimichi Mako." She offered a hand and I was brought back to when I had first met Koharu and the girl had offered a hand at friendship with me. I started sniffing again at the sight of my memory but accepted the handshake for what it was.

Help and perhaps one day friendship.

("Now let's get you fixed up, Sora. Close your eyes.")

.

It was a cool day with dew still on the tips of the fallen leaves.

"Remember," Mother said firmly, "never put ice on a burn right after. And always give a helping hand to a medic-nin if they even look like they need help, even if you're tired and just want to relax, because—trust me— they're probably more overworked than you ever have."

I nodded diligently and pondered if becoming a medic was really what I wanted to become. It no longer seemed fun, and it didn't look like I'd even be able to save anyone, only medic-nins seemed capable of that.

It was disappointing, but I didn't say anything because then I'd be the one disappointing Mother.

And that was a big no-no.

So I listened attentively and watched as time passed with each weekend morning spent with Mother. Spring went by with chilly mornings and newly born birds squawking for food. New rumors were thrown about Madara who had fled the village on a foggy night that had whispered traitorous thoughts to the shinobi. Summer was hot as school started back up and people tensed for war as tensions grew between the newly formed villages. The Hokage eliminated his own best friend and when I saw him on the way back to the tower, he looked far too tired for his age.

(War was something foreign for me, and as all children were, I was morbidly curious about it. Little did I know that I would soon feel its full affects.)

.

Senju Hashirama had many respectable qualities, and one of them happened to be fighting along his people who he loved. They were the very embodiment of what he had fought for so many years.

It had been them that had brought them back from his skirmish with death as the result of Madara going rogue, and it was them who he had valiantly give his life for.

He died at the end of July and his passing shook the village to its very roots. It was an attack that was felt in everyone in the village he had constructed with his very own hands. The village would never quite be the same till several generations later.

The weeks afterwards were somber and the markets, which had always been full of life, were quiet and people quickly shuffled to get home. It was stifling for Sora who, having been the one with the less work at home, was forced to go each week.

Everyone felt the loss, no doubt about it. He had somehow captured the hearts of everyone under his protection, and it was said that the shinobi who had been sent out with him were only standing because of his last stand to save them. This, of course, only increased the people's image of him, and Sora wondered if the whole village would arrive for his funeral.

I received an answer a week later.

Everyone had been given a day off to attend his funeral, and most everyone took it. I saw all my fellow classmates and even Akimichi Mako who waved awkwardly at me through the crowds of people. I waved back with a small smile. We never really saw each other under the best of circumstances, did we?

I stood beside Mother and Grandma who was leaning on Grandpa like a lifeline. We were surrounded by strangers but we were all connected through this one man that had managed to bring us all together to form this beloved village.

It made me wonder if my childish thought of Grandma being in love with our Hokage was true. They always said children had perceptive minds.

I had never thought I'd see Grandma cry in a million years but she had. When the news had traveled like wildfire in the hidden village and met Grandma's awaiting ear in our house, her shoulders had been shaking—the only indication she had given before clutching her cane so tightly her knuckles had turned white. She had quickly disappeared to tell the news to Grandpa, or at least, that's what I had assumed.

It had been weird to see my idol cry. It had made her want to cry all over again. Her eyes had even started shining and she had had to blink the away. It shed light on her sharp Grandma that had never made a once mistake.

It had made her human.

"Senju Hashirama was a great leader, brother, husband, and father…" And thus the speech began.

(His death rocked Konoha to its core, and with war on the horizon, Konoha was in a precautious situation where one wrong move could lead to its own demise.)

.

Tobirama, Hashirama's brother, was elected as the next Hokage. I say elected, but what I really mean is that we had no real say in this 'election'. The outcome was decided from the start. It wasn't that I didn't like Tobirama, I just felt as though it was unfair.

We were a part of the village and we deserved a say!

But each time I brought it up to Mother, or even Father when he wasn't out trying to get a bargain with some other Merchant, they would sternly shake their head and tell me to get me head out of the clouds. We were grateful to be protected and everything here was fair and just and _perfect_. They couldn't seem to see past that and for all they told me to get my head out of the clouds, I personally thought that they should be the ones doing that.

After all, wasn't one of the first life lesson's I had been taught was that life wasn't fair? So why were they pretending like it was because it _wasn't_.

Alright, I was frustrated, but who could blame me? And without Koharu to let me unleash my anger, I would just sit and boil till I felt like I was about to blow in rage. Steam could come out of your ears if you were angry enough.

Maybe, if for only a bit, I could visit Koharu…?

No, I shook my head firmly, I would not bother her over my dumb problems and anger issues. I could resolve this on my own. At least, that's what I told myself, but as more days passed with encounters that only reinforced my thinking, the idea became more and more appealing.

First had been the street vendor at the center of the village with his dumb carrots, not to mention his dumb grandson.

It had all started with one simple question; "Excuse me, mister, would you happen to sell carrots that are grown locally?" And to think it had all gone downhill from there.

The store owner had given me a hard look with his wizened eyes before yelling out to his grandson, "Danzo!"

"Yes, sir!" Had been the responding yell as the boy who had to have been around my age poked his head around the flap that hid the products they stored or that weren't shown on display to attract customers.

"Do we have carrots?" The old man tossed it out like it was a rhetorical question and I could feel myself grow slightly put out. I was a valued customer and here he was treating me like scum. How dare he?! I contained it however, but managed a petty note.

"Locally grown," I added with a slightly vicious smile. I was not in the mood for subtle digs but I could certainly put up a show if that was what they wanted.

He grunted and soon the grandson, Danzo, if I had caught the name right, disappeared once more and reappeared one minute later with five carrots wrapped together with a green elastic band in his calloused hands.

As Danzo handed them to me, he grinned brightly and gave me a thumbs up with his free hand, "Here you go, miss. Local and fresh carrots!"

"Thank you," at least he had common decency, I thought and returned his grin with a genuine smile.

Turning to walk away to get tomatoes—also grown locally because Grandma could be very particular—a hand grabbed mine and pulled me away from the stall. I whipped my head around to see who it was, only to find the grandson sending me an apologetic wince and a finger on top of his lips.

"Sorry about that," he shot a look at his grandpa who could no longer see them, "my grandpa can be sort of crude to people. You know, caught up in the old ways and how it used to be."

"And that excuses you kidnapping me?"

"Well—no, but I figured that, uh, it might make things… better?" He trailed off, running his hands through his brown hair that had a couple off highlights scattered throughout. He was probably outside helping his grandpa all day.

I put a hand on my hip, channeling all my inner prim Koharu, "Clearly, you need to use your brain more, young man."

Alright, so maybe young man was taking it a bit far, but it was _fun_ , fooling around with him when he was so obviously awkward. Koharu would've had so much fun with him.

He frowned, "you could've respected my grandpa more, too."

"What?" I gasped. "What do you mean? He was degrading me by first examining me, very obviously, might I say. Then he didn't even deign me worthy of a greeting, and you expect _me_ to show some _respect_ towards _him_?!"

"Yeah," he nodded, full of himself, "haven't you heard the saying, treat people how you want to be treated?"

"Oh my god!" I was practically pulling my hair out now. "Can you even hear yourself? Great, exactly what I need more conceited people!"

"What's the supposed mean? More?"

"Well, yeah," I ranted, entirely fed up. "We can't even elect our leader who decides everything for us and we're supposed to be grateful for this treatment? How? We have no say!"

It's at this point that I can now say I sort of maybe completely lost it and shoved my problems with the current system to the stranger I had only known for around five minutes. It was a sad reality.

"Um, I'm not sure what this has to do with anything…? Miss?" He attempted to reason with me, but I was far past the point of logic.

"Oh, shut up!" I snapped, "I'll have you know that shinobi have complete taken control of civilians and everyone except me seems to have ignored this fact! Why there isn't even _one_ civilian official other than the ones who serve the Daimyo! And they only live in the capital, but in the hidden village? Nobody! It's _blasphemy_!"

I spat out the last word vengefully and glared at him, just daring him to defy me.

He raised his hands in what was supposed to be a calming motion but it only aggravated me more. He thought he could placate _me_? I wished him luck as I smirked. I would _not_ be deterred.

"We haven't 'taken control of civilians' as you say it!" He protested, rather weakly. Wimp. "We offer protection and if you don't like that, you can just move!"

So he did have a backbone… "Wait. What do you mean by 'we'?" I stared at him suspiciously and suddenly everything clicked. His calloused hands, sun-kissed hair, and need to make amends. He was a shinobi.

 _He_ was a _shinobi_.

"Uh, yeah, we actually recently had graduation. My team's being sent on a mission in two days though…" He continued and I tuned him out because I was having a _freaking existential crisis and why he was still talking?_

I had practically talked treason to him. All the color drained from my face and suddenly I felt light headed. I was screwed.

"Sages," I whimpered. "I really messed up…"

I did the logical thing; I ran, not even stealing one last look at his face.

(I've been told that whatever happens is fate and I can only hope we're not fated to meet again.)

.

 **Hopefully this was slightly more interesting than the first chapter...**


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